


Once Was a Boy

by nishizono



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: ae_match, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 07:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishizono/pseuds/nishizono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Eames thinks when he meets Arthur is, <i>shit, this kid is hot</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Eames thinks when he meets Arthur is, _shit, this kid is hot_.

And it's not like it's wrong for him to be thinking it, because Arthur is nineteen and legal, but he's quite sure Cobb has caught him eying the kid, and the last thing he needs is to start making more enemies. He's already got plenty of those.

But Christ, Arthur is hot. He's long and lean, and bright-eyed with enthusiasm despite his chilly demeanor. His suits are completely absurd, especially for Cabo in the summertime, but they make Eames want to haul him into dark corners and leave him rumpled.

The problem is that Arthur hates him.

It's not an overwhelming, fist-to-the-face kind of hate (though Eames is almost certain it would come to that if he ever pushed Arthur too far). It's more like a simmering disregard bordering on outright disgust. Eames can't figure out where a kid Arthur's age gets off acting like that, but then he watches Arthur mouth off at Cobb and thinks hell, maybe the kid's got some kind of talent no one's talking about. Dominic Cobb isn't the kind of man you say “fuck you” to and get away with it unless you're _really_ good at what you do.

He's got a mouth on him, that Arthur.

The worst part is that Eames can't even find it annoying.

“It's not a fucking viable solution,” Arthur says to him one day. “It's too risky. It'll fuck the entire job.”

Arthur is scowling, but Eames is too busy staring at his pretty brown eyes to notice. He grins. “Of course, darling. I'm sure you have a much better plan.”

“Fuck you,” Arthur spits. He slams his coffee down on the workbench, then turns and storms away.

Eames just chuckles and crosses his arms behind his head. He'd actually been telling the truth-- Arthur's plans are usually better than anything he and Cobb come up with-- and he knows he should probably make amends, but it's a lot more fun to watch Arthur have a hissy fit.

Because see, the thing is, Arthur blushes when he gets pissed off, and Eames likes to think that's what he'd look like with a cock shoved up his arse.

“Why do you do that?” Arthur asks over dinner that night. “Why are you always staring at me? What's so fucking fascinating that you can't just _leave me alone_?”

Eames laughs into his chow mein. “Can't I like to look at pretty things?”

“You--” Arthur's cheeks color and he scowls. “You know, maybe if you'd work as hard at forging as you do at fucking with me, this job wouldn't be taking so long.”

“Oh-ho, aren't we testy tonight.” Eames chuckles and sets his take-out container aside. When he sucks a drop of sauce off his thumb, it doesn't escape his notice that Arthur is watching his mouth. As far as developments go, that probably qualifies as interesting. “So tell me, Arthur,” he says. “Do you genuinely believe I'm just fucking with you, or is the problem that you know I'm not?”

Arthur rolls his eyes and jabs at his pork fried rice, but then he bites his bottom lip and Eames thinks, _yeah, gotcha_.

Eames heaves himself out of his chair, then leans down over Arthur until their noses are almost touching. He's got to give the kid credit: Arthur doesn't shy away. He stares at Eames without flinching even though it's obvious he's feeling uncomfortable.

“What the fuck do you want now?” Arthur asks.

Eames lifts a hand and rubs his thumb over Arthur's bottom lip, and damn if the kid doesn't blush harder at the touch. “I'm at the Capella Hotel tonight.”

“I don't really care,” Arthur says, but his pupils dilate enough to be a tell.

Eames just hums and pushes his thumb into Arthur's mouth, then pulls his hand away before Arthur can think to bite it. He straightens up and gives Arthur one last smirk. “I'll see you at eight.”

“No,” Arthur says and turns back to his dinner.

Eames laughs and shakes his head. He's halfway to the door when he stops to look behind him, and he catches Arthur watching him leave. Arthur glowers when their eyes meet, of course, but the point is that he was looking. That's the only answer Eames really needs.

He grabs his jacket on the way out and slings it over his shoulder, whistling a tune that he makes up on the spot. Cobb is probably going to kill him for this, and he'll probably deserve it, but _Christ_ it'll be worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames can’t even pretend to be surprised when Arthur comes knocking at his door.

Eames can’t even pretend to be surprised when the kid comes knocking later that night. He grins when he opens the door, but Arthur shoves past him with a scowl. It’s funny, he thinks, how Arthur can make _anything_ seem like it’s his fault, even something like this.

Eames laughs. “It’s a pleasure to see you too.”

By the time Eames has shut the door and turned around, Arthur has already draped his coat over a chair and is unfastening his cufflinks. He looks like something out of a monochrome Chanel ad, standing there in his charcoal grey suit amidst white carpeting and black leather couches. He glares at Eames while he rolls his sleeves up, like they’re about to fight instead of fuck. To be fair, Eames isn’t sure there’s a difference.

“I’m flattered that you’re so eager,” says Eames, “but really, there’s no rush.”

Arthur’s eyes narrow. “Don’t push it. I’m not some girl you picked up in a bar.”

“No, you’re not,” says Eames. He gives Arthur a slow once-over, then moves a little closer just to watch his expression turn wary. Eames has no idea how much experience he has, but the way Arthur acts sometimes makes him think it can’t be much.

“Has anyone ever called you smarmy before?” asks Arthur.

Eames just chuckles. He’s actually sort of relieved that Arthur has still got that edge. It would’ve been disappointing if he’d gone all blushing virgin as soon as the door was shut, because one of Arthur’s many charms is what a tangled mess of signals he is. It’s not just his neat suits and filthy mouth, either; it’s how he acts toward Eames, scowling one second and then licking his lips the next. Eames never knows what the fuck is going on between them, and he _loves_ it.

“Well?” Arthur quirks an eyebrow. The blush on his cheeks is the only indication he gives that he’s feeling nervous or excited, and Eames is thoroughly charmed.

“The bedroom is through there,” says Eames, gesturing to the bedroom door. He waits a moment, and when Arthur hesitates, he grins. “Are you expecting me to carry you? I can, if you like. I don’t mind being the dashing hero who carries you off into the sunset, then throws you down and rips your bodice open.”

“Fuck you,” Arthur spits. The flush on his cheeks is even darker, and there’s murder in his eyes as he turns on his heel and stalks off toward the bedroom.

Eames follows at a leisurely pace with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. He’s got no idea what the main act is going to be like, but this is already the best foreplay he’s ever had.


End file.
